I curve down the mountain with exceptional speed. Flurries of snowflakes flutter in my wake, sent off to drift toward future landings.
Near the top there’s no life. I slice through thin layers of icing, and crisp shards fly into my eyes. Coursing through the blinding white with no loss of momentum, I lose sight of the path I must take.
This has to be a part of it, though. If I'd turned only a single degree to the right before I started, I would never have touched this ice.
My back arches and my shoulders find their balance. I breathe, in, out, in again, steady and safe with the scent of chilled vapor.
The winter sky burns cold in my nostrils, but my body is warm and my tears are made of salt. Darkness melts away and my vision returns to daylight.
I’m not sure how far I’ve come. It’s hard to tell when I don’t look back. The unbroken expanse ahead catches the sun with flashes of crystalline rainbow, and I let the future flow through me.
So what then, once I reach the end of it?
Then I will come home.
Inspired by the 5 Minute Freewrite Prompt - Ski provided by the lovely 
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